


The Fatherhood Chronicles - Red Velvet Boy

by Aragarna



Series: The Fatherhood Chronicles [17]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Neal are making red velvet cupcakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fatherhood Chronicles - Red Velvet Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> We're jumping in time a little for this one. Little Neal is about 7 or 8.

“Okay, Monkey, now what’s next on the list?”  
  
“I’m not a monkey.”  
  
Neal chuckled. “What are you then?”  
  
“Dad calls me Pumpkin.”  
  
“So you’re a pumpkin.”  
  
Little Neal shrugged. "It just sounds cool when he says it."  
  
“You love your Dad, huh?” Neal asked.  
  
The little boy nodded.  
  
“Do you like your dad?” he asked.  
  
Neal bit his lips. He cornered himself all on his own on this one. “My dad wasn’t as cool as your dad.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“He left when I was three years old. I don’t really remember him at all.”  
  
That wasn’t the complete story, but Little Neal didn’t really need to know the whole truth.  
  
“Oh,” Little Neal said. “Who was reading you stories, then?”  
  
“Ellen. She was like a second mom to me.”  
  
“So you had two moms?”  
  
“Yes, if you will,” Neal smiled.  
  
“Just like Theo.”  
  
Neal laughed openly. “No, not exactly like that. Theo’s moms are living together. Ellen was just a friend. She had her own house. But she helped me and my mom. Okay, how about we get back to our cupcakes.”  
  
Little Neal nodded vigorously and bent down on the recipe. “Beat in the eggs one by one, until mixture is uniform in color,” Neal deciphered, following the lines with his finger.  
  
“How about I break the eggs and you stir?” Neal offered.  
  
“Okay,” Little Neal peeped.  
  
Neal pushed the large bowl in front of the boy, and slid behind his chair to show him how to hold the whisk. “You hold it like this, and you move your wrist this way. Be sure to keep the speed constant.”  
  
Little Neal started to stir the mixture, sticking his tongue out in concentration, while Neal added the eggs.  
  
“Why did he leave?” he asked suddenly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your dad.”  
  
“Because he did something really bad and he had to go. But don’t you worry, _Pumpkin_ , _your_ dad is never going to leave you. He loves you too much.”  
  
Neal nodded. “You think we could share?”  
  
“Share what?”  
  
“My dad. Maybe he could be your dad too. Like, if we were brothers.”  
  
“Would you like us to be brothers?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Neal felt a lump in his stomach. “And you think your dad would agree?”  
  
Little Neal seemed to think this over. “Yes, I’m sure he’d agree.”  
  
Neal discreetly swept the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat.  
  
“That’d be great, Neal. I’d love that.”  
  
Neal took over the stirring to make sure the mixture was properly mixed.  
  
 “Next?” he asked, pointing at the recipe.  
  
“Add in buttermilk, vanilla extract and food coloring,” Little Neal read.  
  
“Okay, pass me the buttermilk, over here. Oh and the food coloring, it’s on your left, can you grab it?”  
  
Little Neal bent over the table to grab the small red dye bottle. Doing so, he almost slipped from the chair he was perched on. He caught himself at the table, but in the jolt, he squeezed the red dye bottle hard, and its splashed the coloring all over him.  
  
Neal couldn’t restrain a chuckle, and after the first moment of surprise, Neal laughed too. He had dye all over his hands and t-shirt.  
  
“Yuk!”  
  
“Don’t worry, buddy, it’s just food coloring. It’s not dangerous. Though it won’t get easy to wash off. Get down your chair, so that I can clean you a little. You look kinda scary…”  
  
At that moment, the entrance door opened. Little Neal turned around to look who it was. It was his dad, coming back from work.  
  
“Hey guys -” The end his the sentence died in Peter’s throat. “Neal!” he screamed.  
  
Peter dropped his suitcase and coat and run to him, kneeling down in front of him. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”  
  
Peter frantically lifted Little Neal’s t-shirt, checking him for any injury.  
  
“Peter, it’s nothing,” Neal said.  
  
“Nothing?!” Peter got to his feet and faced Neal who was standing on the other side of the table.  
  
“Peter.” Neal held his hand in an appeasing gesture of peace. “It’s food coloring.”  
  
His friend froze, staring at him, then stared at his son. “Food coloring,” he repeated, as it finally sank in. “So, you’re okay, Pumpkin?”  
  
“Yeah, Dad, I’m okay.”  
  
With a shaky hand, Peter grabbed a chair and collapsed on it. He was chalk-white.  
  
“Sorry for the scare, Peter, we were just making red velvet cupcakes, and it got a little messy,” Neal explained, as he grabbed a towel to clean Little Neal. “You really came in at the worst time possible.”  
  
Still catching his breath, Peter nodded.  
  
Neal helped his namesake taking off his t-shirt carefully, and put it in the sink, which he filled with water.  
  
“Peter, do you have white vinegar?”  
  
“Yeah, under the sink, I think..”  
  
“Just soak a towel with white vinegar, and try to clean him as best as you can. Where are your laundry products?”  
  
“In the basement.”  
  
Neal ran to the basement to find some detergent. Knowing El, she should have a good stain remover. He found it and quickly came back upstairs, putting the t-shirt in the sink, with some water and detergent.  
  
“How do you know all that?” Peter asked, while scrubbing off Little Neal’s hands.  
  
“Painting hazards,” Neal said.  
  
Peter narrowed his eyes, but Neal shot him his most innocent smile. “Painting is not a crime.”  
  
“Right. However, giving me a heart attack is.”  
  
“Dad, would you adopt Uncle Neal?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“’Cause he doesn’t have a dad.”  
  
Peter and Neal exchanged a look. Neal shrugged it off. “Sorry, Peter, it just came up in the conversation and, you know how kids are…”  
  
Peter smiled, looking at his son, and then at his long time friend. “I think Uncle Neal has been adopted a long time ago already…”

 

To be continued....

 


End file.
